This story was originally published by Dead Spin
On a night when the baseball playoffs put fans to sleep—literally in Atlanta, where their beloved Braves played until almost 11 p.m. and still never scored—we search for run-producing answers.
Start the postseason basically five minutes after the regular season ends, and thus make it difficult for ace pitchers to be ready for Game 1?
Uh, we’ve got Cole Ragans and Michael King on Line 1… that didn’t work.
So we ask: What did the good old days of baseball playoffs have that we’re missing today?
Well, that’s easy. They had George Brett, Brooks Robinson, Paul Molitor, David Wright, Miguel Cabrera and Chipper Jones manning the same position at which their franchises trotted out Maikel Garcia, Ramon Urias, Joey Ortiz, Matt Vientos, Matt Vierling and Gio Urshela on Tuesday.
Whatever happened to Mike Schmidt, Adrian Beltre and Alex Rodriguez? Later this week, we’ll find out they’ve turned into Alec Bohm, Max Muncy and Jazz Chisholm, Jr.
We’re just 27 outs into the baseball games that really matter, so hasty conclusions are a dime a dozen. But what we saw Tuesday is something that’s been trending for years:
Apparently power-hitting third basemen have become punters.
Hey, don’t discount the notion.
Legend has it that when Vince Lombardi visited the California home of his former ballboy, Bud Levitas, almost 60 years ago, the legendary coach saw his pal’s grandson tossing a baseball with a friend out front of the house.
“You want to be a professional athlete someday?” Lombardi asked.
“Yes, sir,” 5-year-old Bobby Melvin proudly responded.
“Then you should learn to punt a football.”
Melvin kicked a few spirals, but found it boring. So he became a major-league catcher and now serves as manager of the San Francisco Giants.
If history were to repeat itself today, with Melvin doing the visiting and the late Lombardi’s great, great grandson not recognizing the famous skipper, here’s how the conversation likely would unfold.
“You want to be a professional athlete someday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then learn how to play third base.”
The baseball playoffs opened with eight teams fielding eight third basemen. Free tickets to the Mike Schmidt Museum to anyone who could name even six of them.
Two looked familiar: Alex Bregman and Manny Machado.
Then there were uniforms inscribed Vierling, Garcia, Urias, Vientos, Ortiz and Urshela.
As a group, third basemen went 7-for-27 in their playoff openers. That’s not terrible (.259).
But this is: one extra-base hit (a double), one walk, three runs and three RBIs.
Take away Vientos—the Mets have an old-school third baseman and they scored eight runs; imagine that—and you have a bunch of guys who should have been pinch-hit for, as one (Urias) was with the game on the line in the ninth.
Pete Rose is rolling over in his grave… and he’s not even buried yet.
To be honest: not a whole lot was expected. Garcia and Ortiz batted last. Urias hit seventh and Urshela was slotted eighth.
While the corporate minds of baseball try to figure out how baseball turned into soccer, the answer stared them in the face Tuesday.
Third baseman can’t hit anymore.
It’s shocking, and it’s an epidemic.
How powerless has this position gotten?
The leading home run hitter among third basemen on 11 different teams hit fewer than 10 this season. And not just on the White Sox.
The Yankees, whose A-Rod once hit 52 homers as a third baseman in 2007, barely reached the threshold. They were led by Chisholm’s 10.
Tyler Nevin, whose dad Phil had 41 homers as a third baseman for the Padres in 2001, led the A’s with four.
The Nationals sent 619 third basemen to the plate this season. They combined for seven homers, no one with more than three.
Schmidt once hit four IN ONE GAME. So did Graig Nettles and Bob Horner.
As a whole, National League third basemen hit .243 with 294 homers this season. That was better than their American League counterparts, who hit .241 with 274 homers.
I guess we should blame Fernando Tatis.
In 1999, he was one of six third basemen who hit 30 or more homers and one of 10 who hit .299 or better.
On Jan. 2 that year, Fernando had a son. He named him Junior… and sent him out to play shortstop.
NL third basemen hit 391 homers in 1999. In the next decade, they failed to reach even 350 three different times, then six more times in the 2010’s.
In the AL, third basemen hit .265 or better seven times in the decade of the 00’s, then just once in the 10’s.
The A-Rod era had turned into B-Inge error.
And post-pandemic… Well, we caught a good glimpse of it Tuesday. NL third baseman have hit 350 or more homers once. AL third basemen have yet to hit .265 or better.
In 2021, NL third basemen hit 357 homers with a .249 average. This year: 294 and .243.
That year in the AL, third basemen hit 311 homers with a .248 average. This year: 274 and .241.
Move over, Mario Mendoza. A .201 average with 3.3 home runs has become a third baseman’s Carter Kieboom Line.
Five guys with 100 or more plate appearances as a third baseman landed below the Kieboom Line this season. Throw in another 11 if you lower the minimum plate appearances to 50.
Has there ever been a guy with a more misleading name?
Maybe that’s why baseball’s brass is so confused.
